The chaos unfolded at an ordinary breakfast bar in Arlington, just outside Dallas, shortly after six o’clock on Tuesday morning. Tired patrons stared at a row of television screens that suddenly illuminated with images of two very different men on the early morning NBC news. A polished anchorman assured viewers that Friday night’s highly anticipated clash in north Texas between “the 58-year-old boxing legend Iron Mike Tyson and the Problem Child, Jake Paul,” would take us “back to the golden era of boxing.” As if further persuasion was needed, the screen then displayed the bearded face of Paul, “the 27-year-old YouTube sensation,” who lauded the Dallas Cowboys’ owners for their shared vision of hosting “the most significant fight in boxing history” at their AT&T Stadium, just 10 miles away from where we sat sipping our lukewarm coffee.
We didn’t hear the echoes of Jack Johnson, Joe Louis, Sonny Liston, and Muhammad Ali crying out in anguish. Instead, if they had been compelled to listen to the nonsensical chatter of 2024, they might have chuckled. Twelve hours later, at the Toyota Music Factory in Irving, a 20-minute drive from Arlington, Tyson and Paul conducted a public workout to kick off this surreal fight week, which will culminate in a bout streamed on Netflix. Tyson was described as “ferocious” as he pushed his cornerman against the ropes. The trainer wore a body protector that absorbed the blows while Tyson demonstrated decent head movement and threw some relatively swift combinations. But it’s simple for a former world champion when no one is retaliating.
Tyson appeared fatigued after the brief exertion, and it’s uncertain how he will manage 10 two-minute rounds against a man 31 years his junior. Paul is a novice professional, but Tyson looked somber as he awaited his turn in the ring. A black towel draped around his bare shoulders as a young woman addressed the crowd. “Texas, you need to get louder than that,” she shouted. Sweat streamed down Tyson’s weary face as he patiently waited. “Mr. Mike Tyson, it’s quite different when you’re watching on your phone or online, to see it here,” the woman said enthusiastically, praising his short workout. “It’s something spectacular that I don’t think any of us have ever witnessed before.”
I recalled the last time I was alone with Tyson and his trainers in a gym in Las Vegas in 1991. It was a closed sparring session, and before I interviewed him, he worked with Jesse Ferguson. When they had fought five years earlier, Tyson claimed he’d attempted to drive Ferguson’s nose into his brain before knocking him out. That same unhinged malice in Tyson persisted in 1991, and it was unsettling to see him unleash left hooks into Ferguson’s sagging midriff and long right crosses to the jaw with genuine intent. The force of those punches sprayed the air with sweat and water, as if Tyson had struck a small geyser hidden inside his sparring partner’s skull. Feeling some of that sticky wetness on my face, I moved to a safer distance.
Tyson seemed frightening, but his prime as a fighter was already behind him. The fighter I watched that afternoon paled in comparison to the world champion who, in 1988, annihilated the previously outstanding Michael Spinks with a display of fury and skill that, for the 91 seconds it lasted, encapsulated the allure of boxing. Thirty-six years after that career peak, Tyson was asked what he had learned about himself since he began training for Paul. The former Baddest Man on the Planet paused and then said: “That I’m tougher than I believed I was because, when I agreed to this fight and started training, I thought: ‘What the hell was I thinking?’ But I’ve completed the process. The fight is the celebration. All the hard work is done.”
Tyson was reminded that Netflix has 282 million subscribers, and he is expected to fight in front of the largest crowd of his career on Friday night. He was asked if he had ever imagined such a night would involve fighting Jake Paul. He shook his head sadly and spread his hands wide. “Never in a million years,” Tyson said in his soft, lisping voice. Tyson was asked about his family and, possibly a bit hard of hearing now, murmured: “Say that once again, please.” He eventually made a small joke that all aging fathers could relate to: “To my children, I’m nobody… they take me for granted. They talk a lot of nonsense to me that no one else would.” But he was smiling when he suggested that, on Friday night, “they’re going to discover their father is very special.”
Tyson, who understands the historical significance of Johnson, Louis, and Ali, and his own lesser place in the heavyweight pantheon, was asked what it would mean if he could defeat Paul. Admirably, he chose not to answer the question. “All I can say is ‘Thank you, God,’” Tyson said. He was long gone when the same woman introduced “the disruptor, the man who has transformed boxing in four years… the most influential figure in boxing today… it’s the Problem Child, Jake ‘El Gallo’ Paul!” Dressed in a red rooster wig, in tribute to his nickname in Puerto Rico where he now resides, Paul cut a ridiculous and bulky figure. After his sluggish workout, he said: “I feel really good, sharp, powerful, and explosive. It’s going to be a short night for Mike.” But he admitted that his mother, who is clearly old enough to remember the fear Tyson once instilled in boxing, was anxious. “She’s nervous. She doesn’t like watching Mike Tyson throw punches because she’s a little scared.” The YouTuber dressed as a rooster turned to his mother and said: “But mom, I promise you, I was built for this, I was destined for this. I, Jake Joseph Paul, will knock out Mike Tyson, November 15. It’s written in the damn history books.”
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